Beyond These Walls
by Peta2
Summary: She'd walked into Terminus with pain crushing her heart. What she finds inside only makes it worse. Rated M for language, for the moment.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **I started writing this story after the pitiful first viewing of 'Alone' though live feed. Hanging out in chat, the response to this episode by and large was hysteria. What I was hearing about the bits that froze out of my live feed, like 'the look' across the breakfast table, made me furiously angry, made me doubt Caryl, made me want to flog Daryl with a rubber hose. So, I wrote angry fic. Before I finished it, I re-watched the episode, properly, on a big screen. I ranted and raved about what was about to happen to my daughter, then I calmed myself down enough to actually watch. I expected to see the revolting evidence of bedroom eyes and potential romance. I didn't see it. I, in fact, saw a very sad Daryl who found it too easy to accept that everyone he loved was dead, grasping at this place with the promise of a bit of lightness with the desperation of a drowning man. This then became problematic in finishing this angry fic, which is now kind of just disappointed fic. I'm not sure if it can make the leap to happy fic, or at the very least content fic, but I will give it a try. It might end up with a smutty ending, or it might end up something else entirely. All I can promise is that it will be giving Carol the space and love she deserves, because after The Grove, that woman needs a whole lot of something to make things better. I don't know if Daryl can be that for her now. If it makes you feel anything at all, I would love to hear your thoughts.

Beyond These Walls

Part One

"Where are you goin'?"

Carol stopped walking, her pack heavy on her back, and stared forward, trying desperately to ignore the huge block weighing heavily on her heart. "Away."

"What do you mean, away?"

He was advancing on her, walking around her rigid body so he could look into her face and Carol feared the moment she'd have to look right at him and know it would be the last time. Truth be told, she was tired of seeing faces. The people she'd loved for the last two years felt like strangers to her—she'd never escape their suspicious glances, their half-hearted attempts to trust her. She wasn't going to live like that—she wasn't afraid to be alone anymore, and if being alone meant a shorter life, well, she'd made peace with that, too.

She looked through him once he'd got into position, ducking down to try and gain her attention, but Carol was determined. She couldn't look at him because if she did, Beth's face replaced his and that clamp that was squeezing her heart until it pinched and forced her to cry out would jump right back in until it destroyed her.

"There's a place for me, Daryl," she said at last, congratulating herself that she'd kept her voice strong, no-nonsense. "It just isn't here." She made it three steps before he'd clasped his fingers around her arm and forced her to stop moving.

"The hell are you talkin' about? We all only just got here. Rick forgave you. It's over."

The words that were meant to give her comfort just destroyed her more. She knew, then. Knew that she was no longer the Carol they all thought they knew. Not the Carol that Ed taught to wither away and cower, not the woman desperately finding her way in a dangerous world, not a mother trying to keep her children alive, not a friend that Daryl relied on to help him through his darker moments. She was somebody different now and she had to get away from all these people so she could figure out who that person was. Besides, she didn't give a shit if Rick forgave her. All of them sitting on their high horses had nothing to do with her anymore. She'd kept Judith alive and that was her last commitment to any of them.

A not-so-subtle jerk of her arm forced his grip to loosen and then his hand dropped away completely. She should have felt lighter, but heartache was a force that only grew in its burden. She put one foot in front of the other, making it to the gate and with a nod, the man there let her through. She ran her fingers over the hilt of her knife, took a deep breath and quickly ran through her reasons for leaving before exhaling and taking that first step away from safety.

She was at least half a mile, tears streaking down her face, before she realised Daryl hadn't let her go.

"You wanna tell me why we all busted a nut to find this place and you're in such a rush to leave it? You got any idea what we went through to get here?"

The sound of his voice had shocked her, made her heart pound in surprise, until his words struck against the wound she'd been trying to hold closed inside and tore it clean open.

"No, Daryl. I have no idea what _you_ went through," she bit out bitterly, feeling not an ounce of shame over the tears that continued falling. Faces flew through her head, too many, too fast and she gasped, trying to catch her breath. "I know what _I _went through. I watched Tyreese decide whether to kill me or forgive me. I watched Mika die, Lizzie die. I watched my own daughter die again and again, over and over, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it but try and get Judith to safety, to Rick, so I could just…leave. I didn't get to go play darts, or swig moonshine. I didn't get to play house and decide that that place and that girl were the best things I could do with the rest of my life. I'm sorry that was all so _hard _for you, but Beth's right behind that gate, so go back and protect her. She expects it, and I don't need it."

He actually had the nerve to look hurt, and Carol closed off even more. She didn't care. Didn't want to care. _Wouldn't _care. She turned her back and kept on walking, sure that as soon as he stopped feeling wounded or rejected he'd turn back and leave her be.

"What is this?"

There was a hitch in his voice that stalled her movement yet again, but this time Carol just waited, having no more words for what this was. No words for what she was feeling besides being numb and betrayed and knowing that those were the last things she was ever going to reveal.

"_You were right about Daryl."_

_Carol looked up from settling Judith, already tense from having Rick hovering at her elbow—she didn't know if he was hanging around because he was so relieved to see Judith alive and well or if he still didn't trust her to be alone with his daughter. Something in Beth's tone added to her apprehension, though, and Carol felt like she wanted to avoid continuing the conversation as well as she could._

"_That's good to know." She made to walk away, passing Rick the soft blanket so he could cover Judy up and then she made to leave, hoping to get away from them both before Beth could open her mouth and say another word about Daryl. There was something about the way Beth looked at him now—in the way he looked back—that turned her stomach, and it was only after seeing Beth rush in and hug him for hardly any reason at all that Carol realised she was stone cold jealous. _

"_I really didn't get the hold Merle had on him before."_

_The walls jerked into place as soon as the 'Merle' word came out. Daryl didn't talk about Merle, not the true Merle, not to anyone but her. The girl chattered on, preparing Judy's bottles and small stash of toys while Carol's feet were frozen in place, left an unwilling witness to all the efforts Daryl made to not find them. The decision he'd made to stay with Beth in the funeral home before the girl was kidnapped. She felt sick and she had absolutely no right to. He was never hers, as much as she might have liked to think so, and apparently he'd made his choice while he was out on the road. Young, perky, beautiful Beth. Nausea was eating a hole in her stomach._

"_You were lucky to be with Daryl, Beth," she said, knowing it was true enough, and then felt her insides clench as Beth smiled, one that said she was growing into a woman that was starting to understand her place in the world. _

"_I know," the girl admitted, folding up some of Judith's clothing. "I couldn't have been luckier."_

_Carol left without a word, ignoring Rick's concerned look as he swerved a narrowed gaze between the two women. She walked fast and his frantic calls fell around her like mist dissolving in the sunlight._

When the silence grew uncomfortable, she sighed, emotionally spent and resigned to ending it. She needed to walk, to find some place before dark to take shelter. To work out what in the hell she was going to do from this point forth.

"This is goodbye, Daryl. Please, just go back."

She didn't wait, pressed on, closed him out of her thoughts and senses, her fingers periodically ghosting back over her knife to make sure that she still had that, at least.

"No." His voice was hoarse and his face was ravaged with tumultuous emotions when he stumbled in front of her again, his hand placed right against her chest to stop her from getting any further. "I ain't losin' you again."

"You never lost me in the first place," she denied hotly, annoyed that he was in her face before she'd had the chance to compose her reaction. When you lost things you went looking for them. If she'd had any value for him at all, he'd have at least _tried. _"I'm not your problem, Daryl. I never have been, remember? So get out of my face now and just let me go. I'm not hurting anyone."

"You are." She saw tears then and wondered if maybe she was doing the right thing, and then Beth's eyes taunted her mind and she refused to be swayed.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and released it, hoping she'd lulled herself into a softness she truly didn't feel. "I don't mean to. I realise you care about me, Daryl, but right now I need to just leave. I need…I need some space to grieve. Can't you understand that?"

"No, I don't understand nothin'. It's like you're talkin' a different language. What's this 'you care about me' bullshit? What the fuck, Carol? You're the most important person I have left. I feel a hell of a lot more for you than just carin'."

She was pretty sure her heart stopped and she felt both hot and cold at once, a war of body temperature along with heart and mind. It seemed fitting when she was pretty sure her existence was being shredded between her guilt and responsibility.

"Please don't do this." Angry, useless sobs surged in her throat and she swallowed compulsively, trying desperately to keep a fresh onslaught of tears at bay until she could crawl into a corner somewhere and let herself finally break. Let the darkness creep in safely where she wasn't going to burden anyone with it until it ran itself out and some level of light could return. The pain of what she'd suffered was eclipsing everything else now and even Daryl and his perception of whatever he thought he was grieving over held little sway.

He reached for her and she stepped back fast, feeling her ankle jar before she steadied her stance and gathered up her courage.

"Don't do this _now._ It's too late."

He ignored all her signs then, the ones telling him to keep his distance, to stay out of her personal space and he lunged at her, gripping her arms too tightly for her to pull away. "You tell me what's too late?"

He crossed the line. Her heart was already raw. She wasn't cutting any more slices off it to make Daryl feel better. She'd been forced to make decisions that left her emotionally bare and numb, at least she'd thought she was spent, until Beth's glowing praise and sparkling eyes told a story of attraction to Daryl that she didn't think she could handle right now. She sucked in a gulp of air, tried to stem the shivers that ran through her body and left her heartsore and weak, and gathered the courage to give him the confrontation he was pushing her into.

"It's too late for Mika," she started, wincing as her voice cracked and Daryl flinched away. She shook her head, her bottom lip wobbling as the tidal wave of emotion started to break and rush toward shore. "It's too late for Lizzie." The girl's name slammed into a sob and she gave up trying to keep herself together, it was too late for just about everything. "I had to shoot that girl in the head, Daryl. I took her life after her father begged me to take her on as my own. My _own, _Daryl. I shot my _daughter_ to keep Judith safe. To keep _everyone_ safe. I wasn't out there giving up. I was trying to save those girls and instead, they're dead."

He looked haunted, like the slightest breath she took was loaded with the most accusation. She didn't care if he had time to process. She pushed his hands away and walked, hoping she could get to where she was going before the explosion of grief hit her too hard to keep herself safe.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

He was cracked down the middle when he saw them, void of thought, emotion, need. He was barely able to hear his own concerns about himself as his thoughts rebounded inside his head, and when he recognised faces, he skimmed over them, shell-shocked and unaccepting, disbelief the only thing that kept him moving. He'd barely faced seeing Rick again, Glenn, never held out hope that Beth would still be alive—not with how she'd been taken. Not with how he'd been travelling along the tracks with one brand of evil that would have teased her blond hair until they'd caked it in her blood. And…her. He'd never dared hope, still couldn't believe it, and every time he tried to turn his eyes on her, he felt stinging, shameful tears and it was all he could do not to burst into unbroken grief. So he didn't look, kept his face averted, held onto the disbelief that it was her—even though her voice echoed through him with all the good she'd spoken, her teasing smooth as honey and twice as sweet. She broke him down harder than even his own daddy or Merle could have done, and she didn't even know.

Beth latched onto him the second he'd appeared, yet he was barely aware. Could hardly register her as she attached herself to his side, sang his praises like he was some damn hero—something he knew he never was. She was alive. He was glad. Grateful, though the whirlwind explanation that left her giggling and untouched nagged in his brain. It egged him on to lash out at her and tell her to stop being stupid, that just once she needed to quit this irrepressible conviction she had that everything would be fine, because most of the time, it fucking wasn't. Most of the time their friends and family died, or were ripped right from their hands, or banished without thought or counsel of the ones that would be left behind, hurt, broken, half alive.

He wandered around this new place in a daze for a full day before some kind of energy broke through. He was permanently on guard, alert in case they all needed to run again. He didn't know this place, these new people, but the vibe was something that didn't sit right with him. It didn't read true, and so when he'd finally started to extract his head from his own ass, he'd gone in search of Rick. Searching for Rick, and avoiding _her. _He couldn't face the possibility that it wasn't real, and then he saw her with Tyreese, being held by him, the man whose woman she'd killed, and Daryl felt the acidic bite and had to swallow down the bile that burned the back of his throat.

Rick noticed. He looked first at Daryl and then at Tyreese and the expression on his face was sad. Daryl ignored it, continued to watch until he saw Carol pull away and he read the total devastation on her face. He was lost within a well of ignorance, until Rick filled him in.

"Ty forgave her."

Daryl let the words tick over in his skull, letting the momentum of this great act settle on his shoulders. Rick chuckled, his hand shaking as he combed fingers through his wavy hair—neater and cleaner than it'd been for a good long while. "Figures. I kicked her out 'cause I thought Ty would kill her, and the idiot forgives her, like what she did was nothing."

Daryl flinched, wishing he had the energy to punch Rick between the eyes like he'd pictured many times in his head, but everything he'd been forced to feel since he'd been left with only Beth for company had left him empty. He was drained of resources—energy, compassion, understanding— and suddenly knew that the only way to get them back was to face her.

"Weren't nothin'." He can deny it without knowing details because he can see the payout on her face, see the wear of her guilt in the tears that sparkled in the sun. He knows that she earned that forgiveness and he'd never condemn her right to receive it. "What the hell happened out there, anyway?"

And Rick told a story so gruesome that Daryl instantly felt ashamed. She didn't deserve a self-absorbed piece of shit like him, but he wanted to go to her anyway. She was the last….he just needed to touch her, to know she was real, and then he could close his eyes on this shitty day and maybe get some sleep. Only, she wasn't going to let that happen.

It was late in the afternoon when he'd worked up the courage to approach her, and by then she was storming toward the exit, her pack on her back and a severe look exchanged with the guy manning the gate. He'd followed her without thought, an invisible tether dragging him along behind even as his heart tried to sort its shit out, tried to push back the feelings he'd been building and then buried under an avalanche of pain and denial. He'd been so stupid to think them all dead—so selfish. Was that all these people were to him? Something to scaffold his own self-worth? Or were they the fences that kept the dead out? Once they fell, it all rushed back in, the man he'd been before, angry and aimless with nothing better to do than to prove that crossing a Dixon lost a man some of his teeth.

He had no excuses for how he'd conducted himself when they ran. The rest had made their way toward safety, searching for a new place to call home, searching for each other. The ones that weren't were at least hopeful some had survived, even if they would never see them again. With Beth at his side, he'd banished all their memories as best he could, attempted to see this world through _her _eyes. He really had tried, but seeing her across the table, asking him why he was willing to settle, all he could see were the eyes and faces of his friends, people he loved, people he _believed_ he'd never see again, and it crushed him. He'd had one responsibility, though. One left. Out of all he had at the prison—all the love and the support and the encouragement—all he had left was Beth and he owed it to Hershel to make sure she survived. If only she'd snap out of the happy sunshine routine and realise that it was okay to find peace in this world, as long as you recognised at least half of it was leaning toward war.

He'd pursued Carol a fair distance after she tried to fob him off, leaving him stewing over her words, or lack of them. She'd brought up Beth. So had Rick, something about the girl having stars in her eyes, and Daryl smirked, knowing it was a joke. The girl was young, untouched even by this world's standards. For a minute or two he'd allowed her spirit to trick him and it had made him complacent. Made him stupid, and then he'd lost her. They were all damn lucky that the guy that took her thought he was rescuing her, rather than planning something far worse. He had deep feelings for Beth based on survival and fear that they were the last two people left of their group. He owed her a debt, just as she owed him, but it didn't help him understand Carol any better.

"Where are we goin'?"

The previous rebuke in the question was absent this time. They were running out of daylight fast, his body beyond tired. Carol squeaked and spun around and he tried to hide his amusement. It disappeared the second he saw her face and saw the devastation she couldn't hide away. He knew what she'd done, dreaded what was going to happen when they slowed enough for words to fill the silence and he'd have to listen—listen to why she thought she had no choice but to kill two of their people, how she felt she'd failed another little girl and then took action to save Judith. He was going to wish for a sledgehammer to his skull once the real emotion of it came pouring out of her. He already knew her telling would include the parts Rick had left out—would establish once and for all that this coldness his brother seemed so invested in was nowhere to be seen.

He had to tread carefully, he understood that. She had a belief about him that wasn't right, but he didn't know how to change the misconception. He just hoped that when she finally needed something, what she needed would be him. She shook her head, swiped violently at the tears, then took off almost at a run, trying to cut through dirt faster than they had day left to clear it. She was quicker than he'd expected, and he was struggling to keep up. That shocked him, and then he wondered if she was trying to ditch him or if she was just trying to get somewhere swifter than they had daylight left to get there.

He trotted along behind until an energy burst had him catching up, grasping at her hand and holding it in the dimming light. He could feel sweat bead down his back, gather in his hair until a line of it dripped down the side of his face. He was breathing heavy as they jogged to a stop, and he breathed deeply, still holding her hand, curling his fingers between hers and almost pissing himself with the heat that shot up his arm.

"You got somewhere in mind or are you just runnin' away?"

She sagged, as if done arguing with him and he was so relieved he almost collapsed at her feet.

"I wanted to go back to that house…where Tyreese and I left the girls." The flatness of her tone scared him. "I never got to go back to Sophia's grave. Now that I know where everyone is, I just…I need some time to think, Daryl. You should really go back. The others need you. I'll be fine on my own."

He believed her, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement, but he tightened his fingers around hers, relishing the building heat as it seeped into his hand.

"I know you would, but I'm still comin'. Not lettin' you outta my sight again."

She snorted at that and for a second the old Carol, his friend, his more-than-friend, was back. "What? Not ever? What if I need to pee?"

"Then you gotta, but I ain't leavin'."

She tried to pull her hand away, but he didn't let her, held on tighter again and held his breath. If she truly wanted out she knew he'd let go, but he hoped her anger with him wasn't so fierce that she'd throw what he was trying to be away.

"Okay, I'll take you with me." Their eyes clashed and hers were filled with so much more pain than he thought one woman could handle, though he knew she would. She'd take it and hold onto it and it would be a part of her until there was nothing left of her. There wasn't coldness in her—there was nothing heartless or broken, just a woman who accepted this life and did with it what was left to do.

Beth had had it all wrong. He wasn't made for this world. Carol was, and he'd be just fine being the last man standing by _her_ side.

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AN: A huge virtual bunch of flowers to Imorca for ruthlessly whipping this chapter into shape. I can't tell you how very much better her suggestions made this.

To my reviewers….wow! I mean, seriously, wow. I am so flattered that you took the time to review and some of the words you shared with me, both in review or in PM's, meant so very much. I am slack with responses, but please bear with me!


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

Before they reached the fence, they passed the pile of scorched walkers. Daryl eyed them funny, looked off toward the trees in the direction where Carol remembered the smoke had come from, and then his mouth tensed and he swore under his breath. She knew without asking that he'd caused the fire. She wasn't interested in the details.

The fence opening was still down and Carol scanned their surroundings, expecting too many walkers inside the yard, but instead found none. After Daryl followed her through, he reached for the part of the gate in her hand and went to work to latch it closed, then both of them warily searched the grounds, making sure there was no threat hiding somewhere. They were alone and Carol thought that was right, that it meant something that the girls hadn't had to share their resting place with such monsters. That their resting place had been spared that ugliness.

She could hear their voices as soon as she approached the house. Sweet Mika preferring peaches over fresh meat if it meant a living thing continued to thrive. Lizzie—laughing and gentle until Carol pushed her too close to her edge and the innocent girl became something to fear. And Sophia, stirring behind her shoulder to tell her she'd done everything she could, that sometimes it was just never enough, and that _that_ was okay. It was just…okay to fail, because not every time could be about winning and that sometimes failing was the best outcome to be had. Falling short didn't have to mean that everything was lost or that nothing was gained.

She wasn't prepared to see their graves even though she'd known they were there, a bunch of yellow flowers lying brittle on top of each mound of dirt, diligently keeping watch. Carol couldn't understand how they hadn't blown away, how a stray walker hadn't stumbled across the uneven earth and unsettled the offering of her grief. How they hadn't withered away in the sun, grown weak and dry and crumbled into dust. She dropped to her knees, hypnotised by the gentle fluttering of those pretty petals, and she swallowed repetitively against the tears until swallowing was no longer effective and the tears fell quietly anyway.

This place was shrouded in violence, but for the first time Carol felt hopeful that she might find peace once she'd surrendered all of her pain. She and Tyreese had fled, determined to find refuge for Judith. They'd needed one child to be safe after the devastation of those days. They needed one child to survive. Finding Rick had been a shock—she'd never given credit to the hope they'd all find each other again. While it was good to see them—while she could release the worry about the rest of her family being dead—her first thought was to retreat. Go back and finish what Ryan's death had unwittingly started. She needed to be with them, to grieve and be the mother she'd tried to be but never fully achieved. She would be there for as long as they needed her, and for as long as she needed to cleanse her soul of the brutality that tainted it.

She'd spent a good part of the day sitting beside Mika's grave, remembering everything she'd ever said to her and wishing she'd said other things—more loving things, things that hadn't centred around killing and survival. Even then she'd known the child was too good for this world. Too much like Sophia to survive. The guilt was enormous, overpowering, but it wasn't until she decided it was time to get up that her limbs went weak and failed her. Her penance seemed unable to end. She was so sick of life not being fair, being robbed of every gift that came to her, reminded that she wouldn't deserve anything good if she couldn't protect it, even before the dead stood and walked.

Her joints were stiff and sore, her body aching and eyes stinging when Carol was finally able to move. When the moonlight bathed the dirt, she distantly heard the rustle of Daryl's crossbow against his vest and she came back to where she was, who she was with. He'd stayed apart, kept watch, respected her enough to give her what she needed and her heart ached for the reminder of what they'd once shared. How she'd been able to find solace with him there, sometimes with his arms holding her close. She wasn't able to share this; it was her grief alone. The things she'd done, she had to live with on her conscience. It wasn't something she could share.

Her senses were conflicted; on the breeze the subtle perfume of flowers assaulted her senses and it fought against her memory of Lizzie's last seconds. The single gunshot echoed in her ears and Carol shook, remembering how she'd forced herself to be calm, to point and shoot and get it _right _first time, getting it the only time. She couldn't have Lizzie be afraid, couldn't end it with the little girl knowing what was coming. The drop of the Lizzie's body into the field of flowers played over and over in Carol's head until finally it grew soft. It played on repeat, blotting out the soft sounds of Daryl in the background until everything faded away. She wanted to leave this now, wanted to let it go but knew it would live on in her, just like Tyreese had said. The pain was hers alone until the day she died. She was never going to be able to cast it out, and she never wanted to even try to. Letting it live inside her would keep her strong. It would keep her focused and one day, maybe it would be what helped her save some other child. Holding this lesson close to her heart would mean that she would always find her way back, that she would always try. Nothing else really mattered, and being afraid of the hurt was just something that was no longer an option. Being afraid of the hurt was what would get them killed.

Daryl watched from a distance when she stumbled at last to her feet. She was grateful he'd kept watch—that he'd taken on that responsibility above all else the two days it took them to reach the house. She'd ignored his efforts to talk and eventually he'd understood, giving her the space she needed even if it only gave her time to think. Her throat ached from lack of use, from the build-up of resentment, from festering in a different kind of hurt.

He followed too closely behind her as she moved toward the house. She wasn't ready to see his face, risk the touch of his hand, so she hurried on ahead. She wasn't ready yet to leave Lizzie and Mika behind. She wasn't ready to just shift them aside and move on. Not tonight at least. She was grateful to Daryl for taking the burden of watch from her shoulders, but the second she heard his voice, she ran.

She avoided the room where Lizzie had stayed, finding the main bedroom and pressed her body against the door after she clicked it shut. Daryl wouldn't pursue her, after nearly two years she knew that most of all. In this moment she was grateful for the quiet man that would never presume to push her beyond where she stood. They both knew his limits, and in this moment that was a comfort to Carol. It was reassuring to be _sure _about _something_ when she was in this place, with her heart stripped bare, her emotions so muddled she couldn't work out how to straighten them and move on. It was so strange to _have_ the time to give in and feel, and she had to wonder if this reprieve was a blessing or a curse.

There was no light in the room and, as she slid down to her ass in front of the door, tears still slowly dripping down her cheeks, she accepted the darkness for what it was. She wasn't lost, wasn't being consumed by any black evil, it was a comfort. No, it was trust—trusting in what she couldn't see but which also kept her safe, accepting that all she had to do was open the door to find light and solace.

Carol didn't second guess herself. She'd pushed the children at the prison, forced them to recognise the dangers of this world and tried to change their mindset so that they could live. She'd tried to give them a chance. It had broken her heart to see how Mika refused to change, but it had made her more determined to do what she needed to keep that little girl alive. She hadn't counted on the twisted logic of Lizzie to take all her chances away. To turn on her sister, force her life to bleed away and then wait eagerly for her to turn into a monster she could play with—like that option was somehow better. She should have seen it, should have seen the potential in Lizzie to feed _herself_ to a walker, but she honestly hadn't. She should have been more aware to the girl's misunderstood beliefs about walkers, but she'd turned a blind eye, too eager to see the innocence in children, the only innocence left in this world, and it fell in stark contrast with her need to eradicate as much of that sweetness until those children could defend themselves and survive. Lizzie had been broken long before she'd come to the prison. Hindsight was a cruelty she couldn't afford, especially now. Even with all the evidence and repercussions swirling around in her brain, she didn't question her decision. She didn't question that Lizzie's fate had been written even before they'd reached this house. She hadn't had a choice. For Judith and Tyreese to survive, Lizzie couldn't. It was only a matter of time before she'd have been bitten and turned all on her own. She couldn't be around people, and by making sure that she never was again, Carol wondered if maybe she shouldn't be around people either. People kept getting killed; people kept hurting her. Maybe on the other side of this door wasn't solace at all, maybe it was even more loneliness and difficult decisions. Maybe it was more pain that she just didn't want to bear. Maybe it was a hollow victory to survive in this world when every minute of it brought pain.

She closed her eyes, picturing Mika and Lizzie when she'd found them playing at the prison, when she'd found them in the woods, and even the night before everything turned into a nightmare she was failing to escape. Happy pictures, a desperate attempt to shut down the worst of the memories from that day. Exhaustion caught her unawares and Carol fell into a deep sleep against the door, gradually slumping sideways until she hit the floor with a bump through the middle of the night. She never felt a thing until morning.

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AN: Major thank you's to Imorca for once again making me look better than I am. I also want to thank Leigh57 for a section in the middle of this. It was sparked by a post she made today on Tumblr about The Grove. I am ever grateful Carol is who she is and tries to minimise the pain suffered by everyone. If we lose her from the show anytime soon, it will be a major tragedy.


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

He'd never seen her like this before: lost, broken, small. After two days of near silence as they retraced steps they'd not long ago travelled, Daryl was understandably on edge. He'd not expected Carol to leave their new set up at Terminus, but when she had, he'd followed. He'd not expected her to walk for two days to get back to where it all began, but it would have taken an idiot two seconds to realise that, no matter what, she wasn't going to stop until she reached that house. Despite what he'd been raised up to believe, Daryl was no idiot. But when they got to the house, he'd never expected her to burrow in, decide to make a temporary—he hoped—home of the place that had caused so much grief.

He'd filled in the quiet left by Carol's desertion by keeping busy. There'd been an abundant supply of wood out the back of the house and he'd spent half the afternoon once she'd locked herself in the bedroom chopping and stacking, relishing the burn in his back muscles, the tightness in his biceps, the ache in his chest as he tried to hold in useless tears that would settle nothing if he let them go. He had no right to be in pain. This had been all for her, coming here, letting her grieve, but he couldn't help but feel that the space she was pushing between them she'd meant to be permanent and the hurt of that was deep.

When night had fallen completely, he'd taken inside to scratch up some supper, nibbled on pecans while he rooted through the nearly empty cupboards. He'd have to hunt tomorrow, though he hated to leave Carol alone. He didn't know how long she was going to be like this—Sophia was no example to judge her on—but he didn't want to leave her in some state that was less than ideal to guard her own safety. This place was quiet, the scattered memories left by Carol and Tyreese real enough to make his gut clench. Jars of empty baby food still sat on the cabinet near the burners, dirty trays from roasting pecans, the puzzle on the table…there was a history here, experience that he hadn't shared with her and while it was no event that should inspire jealousy, Daryl couldn't help but be consumed with the sense of failure that he hadn't been there to help her. To help keep an eye on Lizzie so Mika maybe could have been saved.

He dozed fitfully through the night, waking in starts and tiredly seizing his crossbow to do haphazard sweeps around the grounds in the dark, keeping as quiet as he could. It amazed him that the threat seemed so small, and for a moment he fantasised that maybe they'd been transported to this place as a reward for all they'd been through—a place of safety and a corner of the past that could help them focus on what needed fixing between them before they sought out the others.

When his aching eyes parted again, light was spilling across the floor beside his slumped body and the high-pitched squeal of a kettle pierced his eardrums. His body ached, but he pushed himself up from the awkward position he'd settled into in the arm chair, picked up his crossbow and carefully made his way toward the mouth-watering aroma of coffee.

Carol had her back to him, staring out the window with her arms wrapped around, tightly hugging herself. He was hesitant to intrude, unsure of her reaction to him and not overly keen to test her tolerance levels based on the distance she'd been steadily forcing between them. His stomach growled, giving the game away and she turned to him, her expression one of forced pleasantness.

"Tyreese thought we could stay in this house. Give the girls a home." Now that she'd started talking he had half a mind to tell her to stop because the words she was using was stabbing him right in the heart. She looked down at the floor and he knew she was remembering, her head bobbing up and down just a little as she recalled those moments she'd constantly pushed through, for the benefit of the others. "He didn't want to be around people. Didn't think he could…after what happened to Karen. What…I did to Karen."

She looked up then and Daryl felt like he'd been slammed into with a truck, the guilt and remorse she had locked away inside her was ferocious in its presence.

"I was going to try…for them. I didn't know if we'd ever find Rick." She was staring at him now, those watery blue orbs boring down on him hard and it was adding a weight to his legs he found difficult to hold up. "Didn't know if I'd ever see you again." The bottom lip wobbling did it for him and he finally galvanised into action, dropping his bow and taking the steps he needed to be right in front of her, barely a breath between them. He wasn't even thinking when his arms went around her, only knowing that anything else was wrong and that he needed her in his arms at last, no matter what else would be in their future. He could feel the heat sear through his clothing as her cheek found comfort against his chest and he couldn't control the darker hue that surged to his cheeks at realising it.

"Sshh, I'm here now. Not gonna lose you again, I swear." The promise was a natural extension of what his heart knew…there was no more him without her. He'd tried and failed to exist out there on his own, tried to fit in with his companions—whether friend or foe—but it was all wrong.

She snuggled in deeper once he'd said what he had to say, somehow accepting it—at least for now—for what it was, and for what he'd intended. The rigid posture that had concerned him earlier had relaxed entirely against him, her body almost melting against his now and Daryl just held her tighter.

"How are we for food?" It was a cheap distraction, getting him away from the awkwardness of pouring out his heart for her to cup in her delicate hands or squish beneath her boots. And besides, his gut was hollow and it was starting to hurt.

"I could do with something other than pecans," she admitted with a laugh against his chest, and Daryl smiled, hopeful that maybe the bad start might be behind him and she'd forgiven him for whatever he'd done to make her think he wanted anything but what he had right now, with her in his arms as they stood in the kitchen of this house.

"I'm real good with this here crossbow," he bragged, not entirely wrong though his aim had been a little off recently. " Why don'tcha come help me scare some small thing to get us through the day?"

"Maybe I should stay here—"

"No!" He wasn't sure why he panicked but as her grip on him loosened and she began drawing away, the sense of losing her increased and he couldn't stand it. "I just mean…" Shit, what did he mean? He didn't want her out of his sight. He didn't want her wallowing over those graves, he didn't want her hiding in the house and he didn't want her alone with no one to watch her back in case their perfect little idyll was attacked by walkers—or thugs. He wanted her with him, at his side, frightening away all the critters with her chatter and careless footsteps so they starved to death if that's what was meant to be.

"Just tell me what you mean, Daryl." She sounded impatient and all he wanted was to feel her in his arms again and he was terrified that whatever it was that came out of his mouth would send her packing, have her running like she'd been doing since he'd first gained the courage up to look at her at Terminus.

"I mean…" He heaved a deep, laboured breath, knowing there was nothing for it but to tell the truth. "I don't wanna go out there and be afraid that when I come back, you'll be gone."

She watched him with such intensity he felt like she was piercing his soul. "Then I guess I'll go with you."

The relief he felt was instant, his body sagging with an extreme dissipation of anxiety and under his radar she'd snuck in again, wrapping her arms around his middle and reclaiming her spot on his chest. He relaxed with her and allowed them to find solace in each other.

It was cool out. Carol had dug out a knitted thing from one of the cupboards in her bedroom, a deep shade of rose and every now and again, Daryl looked back at her just to see the colour. He hadn't really noticed but it felt like years since he'd seen colour, and on Carol it changed his current world view. She saw his looks and smiled uncertainly. He thought he smiled at her, but sometimes felt time slip away only to realise he hadn't moved in a while, lost in the gentleness of her presence and the need to just be.

She wasn't chatty, and her feet weren't too heavy on the earth, so without wandering too far from the house, he'd already managed to trap two rabbits in the snares he'd set as they'd headed out. There fell an easy comfort between them that he'd missed so deeply it had rendered him mute when he'd first thought he'd never know it again, and he wanted to hang onto it now with a desperation he'd never had before. She was only two steps behind him when he shot the squirrel scampering up a tree, and like a sign, the true hit gave him courage he'd been losing now since the prison fell.

He left the squirrel skewered to the tree, felt his knees knock together as he slowly turned and tried not to look like he was scared half out of his mind. Carol watched him, bewildered, but she waited quietly, expectantly and without knowing it he managed to find his way so that he was facing her. His blood roared through his veins and his heart did double-time in his chest. He licked his lips, counted it out to himself, prepared how he was going to do this, and then when her expression turned to one of impatience, he placed a shaking hand at her waist and dropped his lips onto hers and at last he savoured the dry, wet contrast of her.

She gave in for all of five seconds before pushing him away and he felt the release like a smack in the face.

"What are you doing?" Her fingers slipped across her lips, a tiny smile quirking at the corner that at least gave Daryl some hope that he hadn't entirely fucked up, but she was stepping away, too, which screwed with his perception of the situation completely.

"I know I'm not the smartest man in the world, but I thought I was kissin' you. You know, finally." His chin dropped into his chest and the burn in his cheeks was like fire as he tried to deal with his embarrassment. He'd thought this was what she wanted, that she'd been hoping for a while he'd quit being such a pussy about it and just do it, and now that he had, he felt foolish and stupid.

"But what about Beth?"

His eyes snapped up at that, not understanding why Beth had anything to do with his pathetic timing.

"What about her?"

Carol's entire composure seemed to wilt before his eyes. She broke from his gaze, scuffing the ground with her boot, dragging that pretty rose piece across her body. Self-defence, she was running emotionally and it at least satisfied the wounded parts of him that had thought maybe he was too late.

"Beth thinks she's yours. She was all over you at Terminus and you barely even acknowledged I was there. I thought you two were together."

He was stunned. Together…with Beth. The concept was so incomprehensible to him that he was struck speechless.

"For shit's sake," he spat at last, not a little bit disgusted at the thought. "You an' Rick? Beth's just a kid. Weren't at some holiday inn lookin' to get my rocks off."

"She won't be a kid forever, Daryl. If it was just the two of you… I have no right to hold you back."

"What the hell does that mean? You ain't holdin' me back from nothin'. I'm already where I wanna be." He stopped, trying to put everything he'd ever felt for her in this one long, drawn out appeal so she'd stop questioning him, stop _doubting_ him every time things went astray. "I'm with you."

"I'm just saying you don't have to be. I…I understand if there's someone else you'd—"

"There ain't nobody else an' you know it." His mouth felt stiff from how hard he was clamping his lips together to stop from saying anything he'd regret. "I got no interest in Beth. Got zero interest in kissin' her, neither." He bristled with an anger he hadn't felt in a long time, probably not since back at the farm before she'd tamed him. It was short-lived, one glance at her enough to diffuse it into something far less volatile.

He hated when her eyes filled with tears, felt like every drop that fell to her cheek was a punch to his heart and this time it was twice as bad because something he hadn't meant to happen was causing her pain.

Voice real low, dragged out of him under duress, he confided his fears and hoped that somehow his being an idiot might make her feel better. Might make her care about him again. "When I heard your voice at Terminus, I thought you weren't real. Just another ghost that was haunting me." He had her attention now, her eyes sparkling pools and her lips trembling as she pinned him to the spot. "I lost my way out there when I thought you were dead. I was afraid…" He clamped his eyes shut tight, unable to believe he was admitting to someone he'd been scared after the ferocious denial he'd thrown at Beth that he was _never_ afraid, though Carol wasn't just anyone. If anyone would understand and accept how he'd crumbled, it was her. "Was afraid I'd never see you again," he admitted, voice catching. "Even when I lost Beth, it was you I thought about. You I was missin'."

Her sharp breath hurt his ears and he prepared for her condemnation for not caring more for a girl that had been in his care, but then her body collided with his and her lips were savaging his in the hungriest kiss he'd ever experienced in his life and he gave in to it, matched it, lost himself over to the relief of having this woman in his arms. He never wanted to let go of her again. Never wanted to feel anything else against his fingertips but the honey velvet of her skin. Never wanted anyone else's but the sting of her bite on his lips as her hands learned the contours of his body. Their kiss was a consummation of a lifetime of patience. The gasps of air she breathed into him went a long way to repairing what had been damaged between them. His hand tangled in the curls at the back of her head as he held her close, chasing little bites of her lips with soft caresses of his tongue. He got lost inside her mouth, finding such pure bliss he never wanted to find his way out. They stumbled as he shirked off his crossbow, his free hand finding a clear path beneath her shirt and a growl broke free of him as he felt the heat of her flesh intimately for the first time.

"Is it gonna be here?" he asked, cringing a little at the hoarseness that spilled out of him, then not caring anymore when her hand snaked into his pants and he had his answer.

"Yes." So simple, so freeing, and then he was helping her with the button on her pants, sliding the fabric down her hips while aiming for a nearby tree so he could make sure she had something at her back and couldn't escape him. His finger dipped into her honey and he nearly wept, eyes stinging that he'd suffered, so long he'd dwelled in his own pain and inadequacies that he'd almost lost this chance. He knew how lucky he was, that running his slickened finger across her clit and having her shudder in his arms was a gift he didn't deserve, but one he was finally taking.

The woods around them were silent as he seated his cock into her deep, his eyes wide open to watch the flittering moments of wonder, aching satisfaction, and glorious happiness that passed across her expressive face. He couldn't stop watching as he lifted her slowly, relishing the dip of her hips when he surged back inside, the way she gyrated against him to build and maintain the pressure, the pleasure rippling through their bodies as they devoted the moment fully to each other. He was creating bruises on her thighs as he gripped them, thrusting at a steady but lazy pace, little prickles of heat joining force along his flesh until the ultimate moment when he could feel her fluttering against his cock and his answering reaction, everything drawing up into his balls as he let out a feral groan and pumped frantically into her. She kissed him through it, the fingers of one hand stroking his cheek while the other was lost in a tight grip in his hair. He couldn't remember the possibility of loving anyone so fiercely in all his life.

"I love you." Foreign words on his tongue had never been so easy to say, and when the sparkle of happy tears appeared, he vowed they'd pass his lips often.

AN: So, I was tempted to leave this here, but I think it does need another Carol chapter, so that one will be along sometime and that will be the end. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. You really keep the spirit going! Caryl on, all of you!


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I beg forgiveness for this and if you survive until the end, please let me know so I don't die from the guilt! This is the final chapter. I repeat, this is it folks. Enjoy! I hope.

Part Five

After the farm, she'd used any excuse to be close to him. She rode with him whenever his face was relaxed and welcoming. She took watch with him so she could see up close the way his fingers relaxed around his crossbow, how they gently, unconsciously caressed the weapon, revealing him as a man who had a great respect for the thing that helped keep him and the others alive. She'd bring him food, warmth, friendship, humour and more and more often, touch, and she held onto a dream that one day it would be her he'd caress, her he'd respect and cherish and love like he did that crossbow.

As time drew on, he'd grown comfortable around her. He sought her out more than he did the others, he sat closer to her around the fire, he shared his poncho on the coldest nights, and more than a few times he'd encased her freezing hands in his and tried to make them warm. Every night after the farm, and probably more than a few before it, she'd fallen a little in love with him until the day he'd carried her out of that cell, saving her life, she knew there was nowhere left to fall. Her descent had bypassed smitten and she was a woman fully, knowingly in love.

After they'd eaten, they'd talked. About the prison, about Rick and about the girls and Judith, Beth and Tyreese, and by the end Carol was exhausted but more sure she belonged with Daryl than ever. He held her hand through it all, didn't hide his winces, cried over what she revealed about Lizzie and hugged her close while she sniffled and indulged in more tears to soothe her heart, and when it was all over, she felt grotty and old.

With his help they'd brought buckets of water to the house, heated so much water that it felt like hours, but eventually Carol could stand in the doorway of the bathroom and indulge herself in the steam that arose from the bath, letting it open her pores, clear her sinuses, distract her from how hard her heart was beating with anticipation.

Daryl brought the last lot of the hot water in and poured it into the tub, checking the temperature before humming in that way of his that showed he was content with how things stood. He didn't say a word as he put the bucket and kettle outside the door then waited in front of her, allowing her to call the shots. With shaking hands, she smoothed his vest off his shoulders, her fingers tingling at this new familiarity. Next she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, the roughness of the fabric sending her spirits soaring as at last she pushed it over his shoulders and sent it fluttering to the floor. Her palms then met his skin and her breath stalled. Clearly befuddled by this new sensory experience, Carol drifted toward him as if in a dream, her lips brushing against a hardened nipple before the tip of her tongue dared to dart out and taste him. He shuddered against her mouth and his heart pounded hard enough to vibrate against her lips, and Carol cried.

"Water's gonna get cold," he said swiping a finger through her tears and she wished it wasn't something he wasn't so used to seeing from her. She blinked them away, laughing a little to show she wasn't in despair, then let her cheek rest against his heart for a moment.

Her eyes were like clear crystals when she looked up and caught an expression of wonder on his face. She claimed a short but wonderful kiss, running her hand down the length of his chest to rest against his belt before stepping away.

"I'll go put some more water on to boil. You make sure you're in there by the time I get back," she said, pointing to the tub and wearing a no-nonsense frown he wouldn't dare to disobey, and then she left, a little sad she didn't get to see his back and his ass before he lowered himself into the liquid silk.

It didn't matter how long she was gone, it was too long. Kettle and another saucepan of water on the hotplate, Carol returned, and the first thing she did was position herself behind Daryl on a little stool, taking up a medium-sized jug she'd found in the bathroom and dunked him with it. Water cascaded over his head, down his face to form delicious rivulets on his chest, and she did it again and again until his hair was wet through. A dollop of shampoo and then she completely lost herself to the sensual art of washing his hair, mesmerised by the closeness she felt to him, to this man she'd loved for so long. When the kettle started to squeal, she instructed him to dunk and rinse, and she went to retrieve it, emptying the water down the end where his toes were before finally shedding her own clothes.

He held his hand out for her to hold as she stepped in and the whole time he captured her eyes. She was about to sit up the other end before he encouraged her forward, directing her to straddle him, and as her knees hit the bottom of the tub, his erection bumped against her slit and with no effort at all he was stretching her open and she was welcoming the leisurely slide of him home. She shuddered, happy to sit with his hard length inside her, her body accommodating him so confidentally that she wondered how they had never made it to this before. Why they'd taken time when this world had taught them endlessly there was never any time to waste.

Carol wound her arms around his neck and rested her forehead against his, and as she stayed still and he used the cloth she'd found in the linen cupboard to soap her up, he throbbed with life inside her. The urge to move built until it was too erotically painful to stay still, but still Carol didn't move, didn't surrender this control he'd given her even though she could see that rather than losing interest like she'd have suspected her inactivity might have resulted in, he grew harder and thicker until she was whimpering against the play of his lips along her neck.

"I love you," he whispered against her ear, and it finally broke her immobility, but only so that she could swirl her pelvis and tighten and contract the muscles that gripped him. Torturing them both for a while like that was satisfying like nothing Carol had ever felt before, and so when she experienced the first sharp, shocking burst of pleasure, she sighed and whimpered and finally allowed her body to move, but even then the pace was measured, precise, and leisurely. Goosebumps erupted along her flesh, despite the warmth of the water, and she arched her back, loving the rough surface of his chest hairs as her swollen nipples scraped against his chest as she rose up and then sank down on his cock.

Eyes filled with tears, Carol raised a finger and traced the line of his lips, then braced it around the back of his neck and brought him closer, tasting those lips for herself. They felt like the fulfilment of every promise, every dream she'd ever had since she'd first known her heart beat faster for him, and it was a kiss she wanted to go on forever. "I can't remember not loving you, Daryl"

He came at her words and shame tore across his face. She bounced tiny kisses of his face—his eyes, his nose and cheeks and lips—until that look disappeared and he stared at her taken over with wonder. Like a man who'd finally found every single thing he'd ever wanted out of life if he'd ever had the courage to want anything, he seized her with a grip to the back of her head and fiercely claimed her mouth. He blitzed her, starting with little bites on her bottom lip, a swirl of the tongue against the slit of her lips before they fell open and he dived in to truly claim her. His tongue was hot, and as it darted around her mouth, feeling out teeth and her own tongue, she felt totally consumed with fire and lost herself to wondering how much sleep they might get in that bed when all she wanted was to map his body and search out every secret with her tongue.

They stayed entwined until the water was cool. Together they rose, still in each other's arms, unable to let the other go. Getting dry was more of an accident than effort and then Carol slowly backed out of the bathroom and led him to the bedroom, and Daryl spent the night showing her exactly how much he stood behind his words and how deliciously addictive privacy could be.

He was already up and dressed when she managed to pry her eyes open the next morning, the crossbow across his back showing her he'd been out checking for walkers, making sure she was safe. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched her, grinning in that shy way he had. She smiled and reached for his hand. She liked the roughness of it, liked that she could tell how hard he worked and how strong he was just from this.

"Is everything okay out there?" She was husky still from sleep, and a building desire she couldn't contain as she spread her fingers, his moving with hers, matching finger for finger and stroking softly the joins between.

"All quiet," he confirmed, sweeping a contemplative gaze over her supine form. "Wanna make some noise?"

She giggled, feeling girlish and wanton, throwing the covers away to show the swell of her breasts, the hard tips just aching to feel the slippery, wet furnace of his mouth as they were sucked deep into ecstasy. She was writhing on the sheets even before he touched her, her back arching up to push those tingling nipples closer in invitation and thankfully it was one he accepted and the first flick of is tongue had her gasping.

"Touch me, Daryl. Please?" They'd fucked all night, made love until the sun was a promise more than a memory and it still wasn't enough. She needed to feel him all over her, know that her flesh was as much his as hers. He didn't want her to beg, running a finger along her slit even as he drew back and released her breast with a sloppy pop. She thought he was leaving her and she felt tears of frustration, of loss battle with her heart, but he dropped the strap of his crossbow from his shoulder, shed the rest of his clothes and then crawled up the bed between her legs. His tongue travelled the same route his finger had just left and Carol curled up against his mouth, pushing her pussy into his face and surrendered to the voracious exploration of his tongue.

He'd become an overnight expert on making her come and the trembling started soon after his lips connected with hers. He breathed in her clit, sucking it between his lips before lathing it flat with his tongue, following with a flick across the sensitised bud until it created fire and lightning to whip through her body. She thought she might have been growling even before her orgasm crashed right over the top of her, carrying her swiftly away while he continued to dredge every last ripple of climax from her body, licking and sucking and tasting and swallowing her down until she was overwrought with pleasure.

When she had reached her limit, flesh sweating and feverish but already needing more, he slid himself up her body and thrust in deep and hard. Carol wove her fingers through his hair as her thighs clamped around his hips, her heels against his ass supporting the steady, sliding pace he set. She held his head so she could look her fill, witnessing a maelstrom of emotions battle it out in his steel blue eyes that had seen not enough love in their life but were now staring straight into all the love he could ever wish for. The echo of their hours of passion prickled across her skin and while he watched she was keening at how good everything felt, how addictive these sensations were and how much more she wanted him as soon as he emptied himself inside her.

Carol was already pulling ahead, thinking of the next time and the time after that and grieving at the loss of privacy, the invisible walls that would appear preventing them from being this close to each other again as soon as they left the house. She felt desperate that he know, that everything she felt when she was with him would be there always whether they could be together like this or not. Wanted him to take every sensation and bottle it up in his memory so they could open it up and share it when there was nothing else they could do. He dipped his head, exhausted probably from her thinking, and drew her bottom lip into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue until she was sure it was beautifully bruised and tender.

The rhythm of his hips sped up and the steady bump of his cock activated some kind of sensor, warning her body that it _needed_ to explode with release. It wasn't even about wanting anymore, it was about how essential he was to her and the way he dug beneath her skin, leaving trails of Dixon she'd never be able to remove.

The sound of his body slapping with hers rose her spirit up higher, making her more aware of their physicality, his lean body and powerful muscles rippling across his shoulders, the cords of his neck standing out pronounced as he strained and hummed high under his breath. They were both slipping against each other with a light sheen of sweat, gliding across the other and sparking every inch of skin that met to an unbearable anticipation.

He'd almost lost all comprehension as he pushed toward fruition, his cock surging and at last pulsing to the frantic beat of his heart. His body jerked out of time, a jumble of cries and words and jibberish being shot from his mouth across her chest as he shuddered and breathed heat across her breasts. He was whimpering like a baby, holding himself above her with shaking arms when his final thrust released the whole world and she was there, clasping him bravely against her for a long time so she could hold it all within her heart to remember it for always.

He rested his weight on top of her and the last thing she did was mind. She liked him diminishing inside her, growing soft. She'd learned the overwhelming pleasure of him staying there long enough to swell anew, expanding her body around him as he grew thick and heavy again.

She'd thought he might go to sleep, but instead he teased her collarbone with a calloused finger, stroking along the hard bone back and forth until his path wavered toward an aching nipple. He teased that to the point of cruelty, and as she was about to throw him off if he didn't take more decisive action, he licked it, allowed the tip to just sneak past his lips and sucked on it till it throbbed, fanning a new craving in the pit of her belly.

"Fuck. You want to go again, don'tcha." He chuckled and Carol blushed, wondering if it was too much, if wanting him for so long had made her so sex-starved she didn't know the proper boundaries.

"I'm sorry." She wasn't sure what to say, wondering if this was something that might push him away.

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart. I like it. I been wantin' to do this so long my balls had turned blue."

She flushed from her breasts to the tips of her ears. "They looked pretty pink to me."

"And they would after the work out you gave 'em."

He kissed her, shifting his hard body a little so he could comfortably take his time, seek her out. He was an expert at this, too. Carol hadn't enjoyed kissing, not for a long time. The exercise had lost its attraction when Ed discovered that for him, causing pain was more stimulating than giving pleasure. She'd forgotten it could be like this, that the sheer intimacy of searching a lover's mouth with your tongue could be the most erotic thing on earth.

He nipped at her lips and she sucked in a breath, feeling it stutter and stall as his tongue swirled inside her lower lip then tentatively seeking a connection with her own. His kisses killed her, tossed her into a raging sea of desire that caused her whole body to react, to raise and rub against his, relishing the few hairs on his chest, loving the hollow of her belly glancing against his. She loved how he sucked on her tongue as her calves ran a smooth run across his buttock, clamping tighter as her hips started to gyrate, eager for movement. He caught her hands from his hair and drew them up, stretching her body out and she arched up again, loving the drag of her nipples across his chest, moaning into his mouth at the bump of her swollen tips against his. She was fucking his dick before it became fully hard, and in her desperation she bit his lip, hard. She nearly crowed when he grew rock solid so fast that she wasn't quite ready for it, crying out at the exquisite ache that his pulsating cock gave her at her core.

She was so far gone in her squirming desperation that she was shocked when he flipped them, helping her climb back on as soon as he was comfortable, and then she was riding him hard, crying as she bounced, hands braced against his chest, his fingers twisting and tugging furiously at her nipples. She felt his thighs at her back and rested back against them, bracing her feet beside his hips on the bed and played with her clit while she used the momentum to work her way up and down his length.

"Fuck, that's hot." He rubbed her hard peaks then cupped her breasts in his hand, squeezing gently before giving in and surrendering a hand so he could prop himself up on one elbow for a better view. His free hand came up to hold her around her neck, running down her chest and then back up, caressing her neck before repeating the process, his eyes glued to her clit.

She unravelled the second he increased pressure on her throat in a lover's caress and he tugged her forward and slammed his lips to hers as his hips bucked up violently into her, all rough pants and expletives as his cock emptied in a blinding rush, completely wiping him out.

Carol collapsed on top of him this time, wrung out and exhausted, itching with combined sweat. She laughed, letting go to the euphoria that flooded her bloodstream.

"I love your tits."

She snorted, imagining him pouting. She was pretty proud of her breasts, round and shapely.

"Hmmm, I love your shoulders." She snuggled up against those shoulders, feeling warm and lethargic and thoroughly sated for possibly the first time in her life. Her hand stroked along the ball of his shoulder and clasped around a bicep, feeling a thrill in her belly when he flexed it. She was almost back to sleep when he spoke and once the words had hit the air, she lay quietly and considered them.

"You ain't said nothin' about leavin'. You wantin' to stay?"

Did she want to stay? Just outside rested the most recent ruin of her life, buried with pieces of her heart. In her arms was her future, and as much as she didn't want to go back, didn't want to have to constantly question whether the people she'd done everything in her power to protect trusted her anymore, she would follow him wherever he needed to go.

"I think—" She allowed the beaten thought to drift out of her mind, clinging to the memories of before when they had been family and that was all that mattered. "I think you need to go back."

His arms banded around her so tight she couldn't breathe and then she worried about the strange noises coming from his throat, animal-like and heartbreaking. "I'm not leavin' you," he declared fiercely, and in that second she believed it with everything she had.

"I'm not asking you too," she reassured, her fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, smiling at his obvious commitment to her and knowing it was matched wholeheartedly. "We'll both go. They're our family."

He relaxed against her after a grateful nod, his hold still firm but not wincing-tight, and Carol finally allowed herself to sleep. Later they'd pack up and go, return to Terminus and the people they belonged with, and they'd do it together.

The End


End file.
